The moment Katsuki falls in love with you, he’s standing in front of you like a giant dog with his tail tucked between his legs while you go off on him, genuine shock written on his face.
He doesn’t even know what to do, he’s so caught off guard.
One second he was being his usual self, short tempered, too blunt, a little brash.
The next, you’re in front of him absolutely laying into him.
And not in that nervous, stumbly way people usually do around him either.
No.
You’re pissed.
“Get it together or get lost Katsuki. You’re a grown ass man, figure it out.” you snap, voice sharp.
And all he can do is stare at you.
It’s the first time he’s ever seen you angry.
He’d honestly started to think you didn’t have it in you, always so damn patient and sweet.
He’s standing there, mouth slightly agape.
A whole pro hero.
One of the strongest people around.
Getting chewed out by someone half his size and somehow losing.
He knows he looks dumb right now, he’s vaguely aware of it at least.
But the way you defend yourself, the fierce look in your eye that’s unwilling to back down.
It stirs something in him, something… hot and almost primal.
When you finally finish your rant, chest heaving and anger slowly simmering, he’s practically staring at you with stars in his eyes.
Your angry little frown deepens, “Anything to say?”
“No ma’am”, is all that comes out, cool and calm.
You huff, turning around and grumbling under your breath.
And he just watches you leave, heart beating hard under his ribs.
He thinks about it for the rest of the week.
..Then the week after that.
Then one day, retelling the story to Kirishima who’s got that dumb smug grin on his face, he realizes he hasn’t stopped thinking about the look in your eyes since.
And that’s when he knows.
He’s completely screwed.
————————————————————————
A/N: went for a run & this came to me…. took a breather so I could write it LMFAO
even if he didn't show it, bakugo was thrilled to finally let you into his home.
you had been together for nearly two years at this point and your lease for your own place was ending, so why not move in with him? you were shocked when he proposed the idea, but agreed after barely a second thought. you loved him, he loved you...you spent most night's at bakugo's place anyway so there really wouldn't be a difference, would there?
you already had so much of your stuff there! a whole cabinet of snacks in his kitchen and a drawer of your things in the bathroom. whenever bakugo does the laundry, most of his basket consists of your clothes instead of his. and that stupid fluffy blanket you left draped over the couch? his friend's laughed at it when the two of you got together because it was very much not 'bakugocore'...whatever the hell that meant.
one evening after coming home from a particularly rough patrol, bakugo barely took off his boots before some ridiculously sweet smell filled his nose. he could immediately tell you were lighting a candle, but looked up to see his place more...decorated.
"what the hell...?" he grumbled under his breath, stumbling further into his apartment.
a purple rug now sat under under the coffee table. a framed photo of the two of you from your first anniversary dinner hanging above the dining room table in a spot where he said we would put a clock -to which he never did.
some of your knick knacks he remembered seeing in your room arranged cutely on the tv-stand. in addition to that blanket you left on his couch all that time ago sat three new throw pillows.
'hey..." bakugo kissed your cheek as you sat hunched over the dining room table, sorting through some papers. work related? lease related? he had no clue nor did he care much for it anyway. "i see you were busy getting cozy."
you nodded with a soft smile at him. "mhm. i've always told you your place looked so dull. look how much more colourful it is now! i also got you a new spice rack because you were complaining non-stop about the old one."
shifting to sit beside you, bakugo leaned his arm against the table to rest his chin in his palm. damn, he could get used to this. coming home and the first thing he sees is you...amazing view, really. "yeah, guess it is. but you didn't need to, i could have fixed it no problem."
"but you didn't!" you sing-songed to him and boy, did his heart melt. "oh, i found this fantastic side table on sale quite close from facebook market place. can we go visit the seller and pick it up tomorrow? i think it will look great next to that new lamp that came in the other day."
"yeah, anything you want," he nodded. and bakugo meant it. his apartment was now as much yours and it was his. and for the first time, bakugo truly felt at home in his own apartment.
Summary: Private relationship! Bakugo grows jealous when you’re shipped with his former classmate, Hanta Sero.
Bakugo sat at the kitchen table like he did every morning, eating his six eggs and drinking his coffee with the news playing silently on the TV. He didn’t want to wake you, of course. This morning, though, he ate with a deep frown and muttered curses under his breath.
He had already rewatched the scene on the TV three times. This time, he turned the volume up slightly.
“Thanks to their perfect teamwork, this rescue was completed quickly and efficiently. Cellophane and y/h/n have our respect,” said the commentator.
The news channel showed a clip of the rescue, then another—his old classmate Sero wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you both up onto a platform with his tape.
Bakugo sat with one hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white, and his phone in the other to opened Twitter. (As if he wanted to make himself even angrier).
Herolover2343: they make such a cute couple OMGOMGOMG
Cellophaneobsessed420: the hand placement… I have nothing appropriate to say
Dynamightcelloicyhot: AHHHH new couple alert 🚨
He squeezed his phone tightly, close to shattering it in his grip.
He was interrupted by the soft pattering of your clammy feet against the floor.
He shut his phone quickly. He was far too upset to talk about this. Instead, he leaned down, kissed you briefly, and muttered that he was going to be late.
“Hey! Don’t you start at nine?” you asked, confused and still half-asleep.
“Somethin’ at the agency. See ya later,” he said dryly…and that was it.
You stood there alone and disoriented, before texting him a few minutes later.
Love you, have a good day 🩷
———
Bakugo’s mood was set for the rest of the day. He snapped at his assistant without meaning to and even flat-out refused an interview, something that only happened when he was on edge.
On the way home, he glanced at your text from that morning again.
He scoffed quietly and locked his phone, jaw tight.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own that your relationship wasn’t public yet. He liked the privacy—no cameras, no opinions, no bullshit. But this… this was the downside. Watching people speculate. Watching him touch you like that while the world cheered.
By the time he got home, the apartment was dim and quiet. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling on your phone, hair still a little messy from a patrolling shift. You looked up when you heard the door.
“Hey,” you smiled. “You’re late.”
“Tch.” He kicked off his shoes harder than necessary and dropped his bag by the door. “Yeah.”
You watched him for a moment, sensing it immediately. The stiff shoulders. The way he wouldn’t look at you.
“…You okay?” you asked gently.
He shrugged. “I’m fine.”
A lie. A bad one.
You stood and crossed the room, stopping just short of touching him. “You’ve been weird all day and you didn’t answer my text.”
“That’s ‘cause I was busy,” he snapped, then immediately clicked his tongue. “—I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched between you.
You tilted your head. “Katsuki.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t—” He stopped. His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how to say this shit without soundin’ like an idiot.”
You stepped closer this time, placing a hand on his arm. “I never think you’re an idiot. C’mon.”
He looked down at your hand resting on his arm, it grounded him.
“…I saw the news today,” he muttered.
Your expression softened. “Okay.”
He looked up at you, studying your face. You seemed completely unaware of the footage that had been taken.
“And those comments,” he continued, voice low and rough. “Everyone actin’ like you’re with Sero because of a dumbass mission. Like I don’t even exist.”
You opened your mouth to reassure him, but he spoke again, faster now, words tumbling out like he was afraid he’d lose the nerve.
“I know I’m the one who wanted to keep things quiet. I know that. But seein’ that crap—seein’ him touch you and people eat it up—” He cut himself off, fists clenched at his sides. “It pissed me off.”
You searched his face. “Are you… mad at me?”
“What? No!” he snapped instantly, then softened. “Never at you.” He took a breath.
“…I just—” His voice dropped. “I don’t like feelin’ like I gotta pretend you’re not mine.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
He finally met your eyes, red gaze intense and honest.
“I wanna go public,” he said, blunt but uncertain. “I want people to know you’re with me. That we’re together. I don’t care what that brings anymore.” And after a second he added, “If you’re okay with that.”
You stared at him for a second, then smiled slowly. “You’re sure?”
“Tch. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.” He looked away, ears faintly red. “Just… didn’t know how to bring it up without soundin’ jealous or possessive.”
You laughed softly and wrapped your arms around him. “You do sound alittle jealous,” you teased. “But I like it.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, but his arms came around you anyway, pulling you close. “Only ‘cause I care.”
Why is the class princess always a mess around Bakugo ⋆˚꩜｡
MINORS DNI 18+ .ᐟ.ᐟ
Artwork: scenes from the manga, I just edited a pink filter on top and the middle photo is from Minmotion Syndrome special cover !!
If U.A. ever handed out unofficial titles, yours would’ve been embroidered on a satin banner by now: Class 1-A’s princess.
Not literally, though with the way Mina decorated your side of the dorm hallway in pink fairy lights, it wasn’t hard to imagine, but socially? Totally. Completely. Irrefutably.
Sparkles followed you like loyal sidekicks. Your quirk, Glimmer Bloom, produced tiny bursts of colourful light that sparkled around you when you got excited, which was often.
You didn’t have the brute force of Kirishima, or Todoroki’s icy cool control, or Midoriya’s endless strategy spirals, but you had style, charm, and a hero costume so cute Aoyama nearly cried when he saw it.
You always knew everyone’s birthdays, kept backup lip gloss in your desk for emergencies, and brought pastel cupcakes to study sessions “because morale is important.”
Even Aizawa, tired, eye-bagged, living embodiment of a sigh, softened a millimetre when you cheerfully handed him herbal tea on late training nights. You were sunshine. Glitter. Kisses in human form.
And then there was Bakugo Katsuki.
The reason your sunshine occasionally short-circuited.
He wasn’t new, you’d been in Class 1-A together from the start, but your crush on him? Oh, that was very new. Very unwelcome. And very obvious to literally everyone except him.
Because Bakugo Katsuki existed in his own orbit. Explosive. Sharpened. Always ten seconds from blowing something up, and somehow that only made your heart do embarrassing, fluttery gymnastics.
He walked into homeroom, muscles tense, jaw set, eyes sharp and burning, and your brain just went poof.
Like your quirk misfired from inside your skull.
The first time it really hit you was during sparring drills last month. He’d pinned you, not on purpose, your brain insisted, though who could say with Bakugo, one arm braced beside your head, breath hot against your cheek, growling, “If you hesitate like that in the field you’re dead, princess.”
Princess.
He said it like it was an insult.
You heard it like a prophecy.
And obviously, you squeaked. Out loud. An actual squeak. In front of the entire class. Mina had to physically drag you off the ground after.
Ever since then, well. Things had not improved.
When Bakugo walked by your desk? Pens dropped. Papers fluttered. Your quirk fizzled little heart-shaped sparks that you had to smack away with both hands before anyone saw. When he spoke to you? Your sentences got tangled like ribbon. When he looked at you even a little too long?
Glitter. Everywhere.
“Girl, you’re hopeless,” Kaminari whispered one morning as Bakugo passed your row, shoulders broad beneath his hero course jacket, scowl somehow angelic on him.
“I’m fine,” you lied, smoothing your skirt, heart hammering so loud you swore Sero could hear it from across the room.
“You’re sparkling,” Jirou added dryly without looking up from her notebook.
You slapped your hands against your cheeks to stop the glow. “It's a quirk glitch, okay!”
Bakugo didn’t even turn around, just tossed a low, bored, “Tch. Cut the noise,” over his shoulder, which only made your stomach flip harder.
Bakugo usually sat in the back row, prime territory for brooding, scowling, and muttering insults under his breath, but today, for some cosmic reason you were certain the universe did on purpose, he took the seat directly behind you.
Directly. Behind. You.
You could feel the heat of his presence before he even sat down. Like your body had become some kind of Bakugo proximity sensor. Mina shot you a look from across the aisle like, oh this is gonna be good, and you tried very, very hard to act normal while your heart did full Olympic gymnastics.
Aizawa droned something about rescue strategies and topographical reasoning, and you scribbled perfect colour-coded notes like the good little class princess you were, pink pen, sparkly highlighter, tiny little hearts dotting your i’s.
Anything to ignore the boy-sized furnace breathing a foot behind you. You were so focused you didn’t register the sound at first.
Tap.
You froze.
Tap. Tap.
Your heart jumped sideways. That was a shoulder tap. A Bakugo tap. Bakugo Katsuki was tapping you on the shoulder. You turned around slowly, like if you moved too fast you’d explode.
Bakugo was leaning forward in his seat, arms folded on his desk, expression flat but eyes sharp , like he was annoyed and bored and confused all at once.
“Oi.” His voice was low, rough, rumbling right under your skin. “Lemme see your notes. He’s going too damn fast.”
Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
Instead of simply handing him the notebook like a normal functioning human being, you panicked. And tossed the entire spiral-bound thing backward over your shoulder.
Like a bouquet at a wedding.
Like a sacrifice to the Bakugo god.
It smacked his chest. You slapped both hands over your glossy lips, mortified heat flooding your cheeks. “Ohmygod I'm sorry—” Aizawa didn’t even look up. He’d grown immune to your brand of chaos.
Bakugo caught the notebook in one hand like it weighed nothing, blinking once, twice, slow and perplexed.
“…The hell was that?” he muttered.
But not angry. Not even close.
When you whipped back around in your seat, spine straight as a ruler, staring at the front like your life depended on it, Bakugo just watched you. Not glaring. Not smirking.
Just… watching. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head, hot and questioning, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Why you always sparkled when he got near. Why you squeaked when he spoke. Why the loudest, chattiest, glitteriest girl in all of U.A. became a speechless mess around him and only him.
And he leaned back in his seat with a deep, irritated sigh that didn’t quite hide the confusion underneath.
“Did I do something?” he whispered under his breath.
Like he genuinely couldn’t understand why Class 1-A’s princess, the girl who practically twirled through the dorm halls, beloved by everyone, effortless sunshine, endless chatter, shut down completely the second Katsuki Bakugo gave her a single shred of attention.
He flipped open your notebook anyway.
The second Aizawa dismissed class, you bolted. Not gracefully. Not regally. Not like a princess.
More like a startled glittery rabbit in platform heels.
You scooped your notebooks and pens into your bag and you squeaked like a chew toy, which made your quirk flicker tiny pink sparks all down the hallway as you fled.
“Oi—” Bakugo tried, voice low behind you, but nope. No thank you. Absolutely not. You were running for your life. You didn’t stop until you were inside your dorm, door shut, back pressed against it, cheeks practically glowing from embarrassment and leftover Bakugo proximity.
Your room, your sanctuary, greeted you in full princess glory.
Pink fairy lights. Scented candles. Fluffy rugs. Heart-shaped pillows. And your huge white bed draped in a cloud of soft blankets that looked like they were crafted from baby unicorn fur.
You threw yourself face-first into the mattress with a dramatic whine.
“Why am I like this,” you groaned into a pillow shaped like a strawberry. You made the world’s most high-pitched noise and buried yourself under your comforter like a glittery mole.
Eventually, you changed into your comfort clothes, a tiny pair of bubblegum-pink satin shorts and a matching cami, silky and soft and very you. And reapplied your lip gloss, because even in panic you had standards, you flopped back onto your pile of pillows and scrolled on your phone to distract yourself.
You were mid-scroll through a video of baby bunnies wearing flower crowns when—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
You froze.
No one knocked like that.
Firm. Impatient. Like the person on the other side of the door didn’t knock so much as declare open up. Your stomach dropped. Your sparkles fizzled.
Oh no.
Oh no no no!
You cracked the door open the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic amount and, it was him.
Bakugo Katsuki.
In the dorm hallway. Outside your room. Holding your pink notebook like it offended him.
He looked annoyed. But also weirdly tense? Like he’d been pacing before knocking. His gaze flicked down your body, from your bare shoulders, to your tiny pink satin shorts, and he jerked his eyes away immediately, jaw clenching so hard you could hear it.
“…Why’re you dressed like that,” he muttered.
You squeaked. Again. “It’s bedtime!”
“It’s four in the damn afternoon.”
“Nap time!”
A beat.
He breathed out through his nose like someone fighting God Himself. “Whatever.” He shoved the notebook toward you. “You left too fast. I wasn’t done with your notes.”
Your face went nuclear-level hot. “I’m sorry! I just, you were— I was— brain malfunction— you know—”
He stared.
You wanted to evaporate.
“Do I make you nervous or something?” he asked finally, voice low, rough, strangely gentle under all the gravel.
Your quirk betrayed you instantly. A tiny pink spark popped into existence right beside your cheek. You slapped it away with a mortified gasp.
Bakugo’s eyes widened the slightest bit. Not mocking. Just startled.
And then, God help you, something like a faint, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he’d finally solved the puzzle he’d been chewing on all day. He leaned an elbow braced against your doorframe, stepping just a little closer.
“So that’s it,” he murmured. “That why you bolted? Can’t think straight around me, princess?”
Your breath hitched. Your sparkles flickered like a fireworks factory. Bakugo watched every single one. And he didn’t look confused anymore. He looked dangerous.
In a way that made your heart feel like spun sugar.
Before you could even squeak a protest, Bakugo nudged the door just enough with his shoulder, then stepped inside. One foot. Then the other. And suddenly, he was there, in your room, the scent of him, warm, sharp, faintly explosive, wrapping around you like a slow, impossible fire.
His eyes flickered over your fairy-lit lair, taking in the strawberry-shaped pillows, the pastel chaos, the sheer, unapologetic feminity of it all. His smirk deepened. "Figures," he muttered, but it didn't sound like mockery, more like he was filing this away in some private Bakugo catalogue titled You, Explained.
You backed up until your knees hit the bedframe, gripping the edge to stop your hands from shaking. "You—you can't just walk in here!"
Bakugo shrugged, tossing your notebook onto your vanity where it landed with a soft thud. "Too late." His gaze roamed over you again, lingering on the way your cami strap had slipped down your shoulder, the nervous flutter of your pulse at your throat.
When his fingers twitched at his sides, just once, you swore the air between you crackled.
Silence stretched, thick and sweet and unbearable. Then he stepped closer, boots scuffing against your fluffy rug, nostrils flaring slightly like he was breathing you in. "You know," he said, voice dropping to a rumble that curled your toes, "your sparkles get brighter when I piss you off."
They did.
Right now, they were practically strobing.
"You're imagining things," you lied, but your voice wobbled.
Bakugo scoffed. "Bullshit." He reached out, slow, deliberate, and caught one of your runaway sparkles between his thumb and forefinger.
It fizzled against his calloused skin, leaving behind a faint pink smudge. His grin turned wolfish. "Gotcha."
Your breath stuttered. He was close enough now that you could see the flecks of gold in his crimson eyes, feel the heat radiating off him in waves. Some primal part of your brain screamed Danger!, but the rest of you? The rest of you was leaning in.
Bakugo noticed. Of course he did. His smirk softened, just a fraction, as his gaze dropped to your mouth. "What, no comeback? No glittery speech?" He tilted his head, and oh god, was he, was he enjoying this?
You swallowed hard. "Shut up."
He barked a laugh, rough and surprised. "There she is." One hand came up, hovering near your cheek like he couldn't decide whether to touch you or throttle you. His fingers flexed. "You're fucking ridiculous, you know that?"
The words should've stung.
Instead, they settled warm in your chest. Because Bakugo wasn't walking away. He wasn't even scowling. He was standing in your glitter bomb of a bedroom, looking at you like you were the most fascinating problem he'd ever encountered, and Katsuki Bakugo loved solving problems.
Your quirk betrayed you again, showering the space between you in gold and pink. Bakugo's nose twitched at the sudden brightness, but he didn't back off.
If anything, he leaned in closer, eyes tracking the way the sparks reflected in your wide pupils. "Annoying," he muttered. Then, quieter, "Kinda pretty, though."
The confession hit like one of his explosions, sudden, violent, leaving you breathless. Your knees buckled. Bakugo's hand shot out instinctively, catching your elbow before you could collapse onto your pink comforter.
The contact sent a jolt through you, his fingers branding your skin through the thin satin. You could feel every callous, every ridge from years of detonating his quirk.
"Oi," he growled, voice lower than you'd ever heard it. "Nodding ain't answering. Use your words." He leaned in, close enough that his breath mingled with yours, smelling faintly of caramel and gunpowder.
Somewhere between a threat and a plea, he bit out, "Do you like me or not?"
Your sparkles went supernova.
Pink. Gold. Silver.
They erupted around you in a cascading halo, illuminating the sharp planes of his face in flickering pastel. You opened your mouth, nothing came out but a tiny, mortified whimper.
Bakugo's smirk curled slow like smoke. "That's what I thought." His thumb brushed your inner wrist, just once, rough enough to make you shiver. "Fuckin' ridiculous," he muttered, but his grip gentled.
Before you could process, he spun you both, your back hit the mattress, his knees bracketing your hips, palms planted on either side of your head. The fairy lights caught the molten gold in his irises as they dragged down your body.
"You're really wearing this shit just to sleep?" His voice scraped raw over the satin clinging to your thighs.
You arched up instinctively, bad idea. His knee slid between yours, heat searing through the thin fabric. His breath hitched when your sparkles rained onto his shoulders.
"Still not talking?" Bakugo's fingers traced the strap slipping down your arm. "Fine." His palm smacked the mattress beside your head. "Up. Now."
You scrambled upright, pulse hammering where his touch lingered. Bakugo sank onto the edge of your bed like he owned it, legs spread, arms crossed. That look, half challenge, half hunger, sent your quirk into overdrive.
Pink motes swirled between you like fireflies trapped in syrup.
One eyebrow arched. "Straddle me."
Your mouth dried. "W-what?"
"You heard me." His boot hooked around your ankle, dragging you forward until your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his thighs. "Unless you wanna keep being a coward."
The first brush of denim against your inner thighs nearly short-circuited your brain. Bakugo's hands clamped on your hips before you could bolt, fingers digging in just shy of painful. His smirk turned feral when your sparkles burst against his collarbones.
"Look at you," he rumbled, "all glitter and no guts." His thumbs stroked the dips of your hips through the satin. "Gonna run again?"
You shook your head frantically, curls bouncing, then froze when his gaze dropped lower.
Bakugo smirked. "Bet you're pink everywhere, huh?" The words scraped out like gravel and honey. His grip tightened. "Bet your fucking cum sparkles too—"
Your hands flew up to slap over his mouth, face burning hotter than his nitroglycerin sweat. "Shut up!"
Glitter erupted from your skin in panicked bursts, peach, blush, rose, illuminating the way his irises dilated behind your fingers.
He laughed against your palms, the vibration traveling up your arms like livewire electricity. His tongue darted out, wet, scorching, licking a stripe across your fingertips before you could yank away. "Tastes like sugar," he rasped, watching your breath hitch with predatory satisfaction. "Knew it."
You scrambled , thighs clamping around his waist in the process, horrifyingly intimate. Bakugo's nostrils flared. His palm slid up your spine, fingers tangling in the fine hairs at your nape.
"Deny it," he challenged, breath hot against your ear. "Say your slick isn't glowing right now."
Traitorous warmth pooled low in your belly. Your quirk betrayed you again, shimmering pulses radiating from beneath the satin shorts pressed against his abs. Bakugo's grin turned downright carnivorous.
One calloused thumb hooked under the waistband. "Prove me wrong," he dared, dragging the fabric down an inch, just enough to reveal the first hint of pearlescent wetness catching the fairy lights. His exhale punched out ragged. "Fuck. It is pink."
You whined, thighs shaking, sparkles refracting in the sweat beading along his throat. Bakugo groaned, a rough, punched-out sound, and hauled you flush against him. His teeth grazed your pulse point. "Gonna ruin me, princess."
The first tear of fabric echoed obscenely loud as his claws shredded through your camisole.
Pastel ribbons fluttered to the bedspread like cherry blossom petals, too soft, too feminine for the way his hips canted up against yours.
Your back arched when his mouth closed over one peaked nipple, tongue swirling the glitter beading there. Bakugo grunted, the sound reverent and filthy, when luminescent streaks smeared across his cheekbones.
"Told you," he panted against your sternum, fingers working your shorts past trembling hips. "Fucking sparkly everywhere."
The last coherent thought you had, before his teeth sank into you again, was that Mina owed you new pyjamas.
Bakugo flipped you onto your back with a single rough shove, your thighs spreading instinctively beneath his hips as he loomed over you, pupils blown wide.
His smirk sharpened when your sparkles erupted again, golden, frantic, illuminating the predatory hunger in his expression. "Pathetic," he growled, but his fingers trembled where they gripped your waist.
"Coulda had Deku fawning over you like some damn prince." His knee pressed higher between your legs, dragging a whimper from your throat. "Instead you're here—" his palm slid up your ribs, "wrapped around my fingers—" his thumb brushed your nipple, "glowing like a fucking firework."
You arched into his touch, tremors wracking your spine when his free hand yanked your ruined cami straps down your arms.
The sound of fabric tearing filled the room, too loud, too obscene, but Bakugo didn't hesitate. He leaned in close, lips grazing your ear as his knee pressed harder. "Say it," he demanded, voice guttural. "Say you picked me."
Your hips jerked involuntarily when his teeth scraped your collarbone. "I—" A spark burst against his eyelid, making him blink. "I picked you!"
Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose, half triumphant snarl, half shuddering groan, before surging forward to capture your mouth in a kiss that tasted like victory and nitroglycerin.
His tongue mapped every inch of you with single-minded focus, as if cataloging the way your breath hitched when he bit your lower lip just shy of painful.
When he pulled back, your sparkles had formed a perfect halo around his disheveled spikes. His chest heaved as he dragged a thumb through the glitter smeared across your cheekbone, then licked it clean with a low hum.
"Mine," he declared, fingers tightening possessively on your hips. "Every fucking shimmer."
Somewhere beyond your glitter-clouded haze, you registered the dorm hallway outside, the distant laughter of your classmates, the squeak of sneakers on linoleum.
Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
The complete antithesis of the boy currently pinning you to silken sheets with his weight and the molten promise in his gaze.
Bakugo noticed your distraction immediately. His palm cracked against the headboard beside your ear, making you jump. "Eyes here, princess."
When you obeyed, trembling, he smirked, all sharp canines and wicked intent. "Good girl." His free hand slid between your thighs, callouses catching on sensitive skin. "Now let's see how loud you sparkle."
The first press of his fingers drew a whine from your throat, high and broken. Your quirk responded instantly, pearl-pink luminescence spilling over his knuckles, dripping onto the rumpled satin sheets beneath you.
Bakugo's breath stuttered. "Holy shit," he rasped, watching the glow spread between your legs with something akin to reverence. His thumb circled once, twice, drawing out another pulse of light that clung to his skin like liquid glitter. "Fuckin' perfect."
You arched off the bed when he crooked his fingers, nails scraping down his biceps as your sparkles rained across his chest. Bakugo growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you where your bodies pressed together, and increased the pace, his rhythm merciless.
"That's it," he goaded, lips brushing your temple. "C'mon, light up for me."
The pressure built dizzyingly fast, your thighs clamping around his wrist as the room flickered gold and rose. Bakugo's breath hitched when your back bowed off the mattress, his name tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea.
Right before you shattered, his mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing your moans as your quirk detonated, a supernova of color refracting through the fairy lights, painting his skin in shimmering streaks.
Panting, you went boneless against the sheets. Bakugo pulled back just enough to examine his glitter-coated forearm with a satisfied smirk.
"Told you," he muttered, licking a stripe up his palm where your glow lingered. His eyes darkened at the taste. "Fuckin' addicting."
Then, before you could recover, he flipped you onto your stomach with a single rough shove. "Round two," he announced, kneading the back of your thighs. "And this time—" his teeth grazed your shoulder blade, "I'm gonna make you sparkle loud enough to wake up the whole damn dorm."
Your whimper dissolved into the pillows as his hands spanned your waist, the promise in his touch searing brighter than any quirk.
Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose when your sparkles flickered against the dark fabric of his belt, already half-undone, the leather slack against his hips.
His fingers trembled, just once, before he yanked it free with a sharp metallic rasp that made your thighs clench. You turned your face into the strawberry pillow just as his palm smoothed down the curve of your ass, possessive and rough.
"Look at me," he growled, thumb hooking in the ruined satin clinging to your hips. When you hesitated, his teeth grazed the nape of your neck. "Now."
The first stroke of his cock against your thigh sent a jolt through you.
Hot, heavy, glistening with the same iridescent slick your quirk left on his fingers. He hissed through clenched teeth, muscles taut as he pumped himself twice, the sound wet and obscene in the quiet of your room.
Your name tore from his throat when your sparkles burst against his knuckles, pearlescent streaks painting his forearm. "Fuck," he rasped, thumb smearing the glow across your hipbone. "Gonna ruin you."
The initial stretch burned, blissful, aching, as he pressed in with a groan that rattled your ribs. Your moan fractured against the pillow when he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours, every ridge and vein slotting into place like you were made for it.
Bakugo's breath came ragged against your shoulder blades, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he adjusted to the vice-like heat.
"Move," you gasped, arching back against him. His answering snarl sent sparks skittering across the sheets.
He set a punishing pace immediately, each thrust punching little glittering whines from your throat. The headboard rattled against the wall in time with the wet slap of skin, Bakugo's palm splayed between your shoulder blades to keep you pinned.
His other hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back just enough to see the way your sparkles clung to his sweat-slicked collarbones. His teeth found the shell of your ear as the first real pulse of your orgasm lit up the room, gold, pink, incandescent, his groan reverberating through you like a detonation. "Fuck, there it is—"
Your muffled scream dissolved into the strawberry pillow as he fucked you through it, his rhythm turning erratic, brutal. Bakugo's hips snapped forward once, twice, before his grip on your hair yanked your head back entirely.
His lips crashed against yours just as he spilled deep inside you, hot, pulsing, his broken moan swallowed by your mouth. Your quirk responded in kind, pearlescent streaks erupting between your joined bodies, painting his abs in liquid starlight where they pressed flush against your ass.
He didn't pull out.
Just collapsed atop you with his full weight, his rapid-fire heartbeat thudding between your shoulder blades. His fingers traced idle patterns through the glow smeared across your thighs, sticky-sweet and still faintly luminescent.
When you shifted, his arm banded tighter around your waist. "Stay," he grunted against your nape, an order softened by the way his lips lingered on your sweat-damp skin.
Outside, someone's laughter echoed down the hallway, oblivious to the way Bakugo's teeth grazed your pulse point, marking, claiming, as his hips gave one last lazy roll.
Your fingers tangled with his where they rested on your stomach, sparking tiny pink flares at the contact. Bakugo huffed, annoyed, fond, before biting your shoulder hard enough to make you yelp.
"Quit it," he muttered, but his thumb stroked over your knuckles anyway. The fairy lights cast shifting shadows across the walls as your breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling against your back, his breath warming the spot between your wings where his palm rested.
Heavy. Present.
"You're staring," you mumbled into the pillow, skin prickling beneath his gaze. Bakugo scoffed but didn't deny it, calloused fingers trailing down your spine in a slow, proprietary sweep that left glitter in their wake.
His lips followed, hot, insistent, branding each vertebra as he moved lower, pausing to nip at the dimples above your ass with a sound suspiciously close to a growl.
You squirmed, thighs pressing together reflexively, but he wedged his knee between them with effortless dominance. "Bakugo—"
"Katsuki," he corrected against the small of your back, the vibration skating down to where your bodies were still joined. His tongue swiped over a particularly bright sparkle clinging to your hip.
"Say it." When you hesitated, his teeth dug in, not hard enough to bruise, just enough to make your breath hitch. "Now."
"K-Katsuki," you stammered, flushing when he hummed approval against your skin. His lips curved into a smirk you could feel as he kissed lower, the swell of your ass, the crease of your thigh, each touch deliberate, lingering.
He exhaled sharply through his nose when your quirk reacted instinctively, dusting his cheekbones in gold. "You're—mmph—gonna be insufferable in class tomorrow, aren't you?"
Bakugo paused mid-bite, lifting his head just enough to pin you with a look that simmered with wicked promise. "Gonna sit way the fuck closer behind you now," he admitted, voice rough with satisfaction.
His fingers kneaded the supple flesh of your thighs, leaving faint pink smudges where your glow clung to his fingerprints. "Watch you squirm every time I breathe on your neck."
You whined, pressing your burning face into the mattress. "No—that's too embarrassing!"
His laugh was dark, thrilled, vibrating through your ribcage as he licked a stripe up your spine. "Don't care." His palm smacked your ass, once, sharp, drawing out another burst of sparkles. "Shoulda thought of that before you let me in your bed, princess."
The nickname shouldn't have sent heat pooling low in your belly again. Bakugo seemed to sense it anyway, his groan was half exasperation, half arousal as he rolled his hips lazily, still buried inside you.
Your choked moan disappeared into the pillows when his teeth found your earlobe. "Round three," he decided, voice dripping with sinful intent. "And this time," his hand slid around to your front, fingers pressing lightly against your clit, "I'm making damn sure every extra in this school knows who you sparkle for."
Your protest dissolved into a broken gasp as his touch reignited the embers of your pleasure, Bakugo's name tumbling from your lips in a litany that only spurred him on.
Outside, the dorm settled into evening quiet, completely unaware of the way the blond menace behind you was rewriting every rule of engagement between you with each possessive thrust, each glimmering kiss.
You and Bakugo haven't seen each other in 10 years. But when you see his face, it' s like no time has passed. Will you fall for him again in this Choose Your Own Adventure?
Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader
Choose Your Own Adventure
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
🎮interactive fanfic "Longing For You" by j3viism
📖 Episode 1 of ?
Summary: In the final war you aided Edgeshot in bringing Bakugo back to life with your healing quirk. However the damage done to your body from the backlash was irreversible. You could no longer be the hero you dreamed of being. You still tried to live life and even moved away for a bit. But now you’re back and Bakugo has been your aggressive nurse, but when he finds out things you haven’t told him he feels like he hadn’t paid you back at all. So when he finds out Mina is moving out, he feels like he finally has the opportunity to.
tags: slowburn and mutual pining
a/n: this is truly a self indulgent fic/series for sure Pt;2
The afternoon sun cut across the living room of the apartment you shared with Mina, casting long, sharp shadows that matched the tension in the air. Bakugo stood by the kitchen.
He hadn't left. Even after you told him to go, he’d simply walked to the kitchen, found that your cupboards bare, and returned twenty minutes later with a bag of groceries he’d practically slammed onto the counter. An excuse to come back.
You sat on the sofa, a knitted blanket pulled over your lap, your fingers picking at the loose threads. The silence was heavy with the things you’d hadn't said for four months.
"I told you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "It’s just life stuff. Everyone has something, Bakugo. I just thought it’d be good for me."
Bakugo didn't buy it. He’d been watching you for months, driving you to appointments, even carried you once when your legs felt like lead, memorizing the timing of your meds, watching your eyes go distant when your blood pressure dropped. He knew the chemical cocktail you were on.
"Those meds," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "they aren't just for the seizures. They’re mood stabilizers. Don't lie to me."
You flinched. The weight of your secret was slipping. You didn’t want him to know that you had been going to therapy not because he’d be mad. He’d actually suggested but you didn’t want him to know that he was part of the reason you were going.
"Who takes you?" he pressed. "To the office downtown?"
"Izuku," you breathed.
Bakugo’s jaw tightened so hard it looked painful. Deku. Of course, it was Deku. He felt a flash of that old, angry, prickly heat behind his neck out of a crushing sense of inadequacy. The same one he use to feel in his childhood. He was the one you’d lost everything to save so he should have been the one you trusted.
"Why him?" he barked, though the volume lacked its usual bite. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Your composure shattered. Tears following down your cheeks spilling onto the blanket. "Because I'm depressed, okay?" You sobbed, the words coming up like vomit. "I miss my life and being independent. I miss my friends! And being a hero, I miss being able to walk to the store without wondering if I’m going to collapse and wake up in a hospital. I’m trapped in this body that doesn't even know how to regulate itself anymore! I want my old life back!"
You looked at him, your eyes red and puffy. "And I knew if I told you, you’d do exactly what you’re doing now. You’d blame yourself. You’d think my depression or my isolation is your fault because I used my quirk to save you. It’s not your fault. But sometimes…I-I feel so alone. All the time."
Bakugo didn't move. He felt like he’d been hit with the obvious stick. He’d spent months being your off-brand nurse, bringing you meals, scaring off anyone who looked at you weirdly, being the "sturdy" one. Months of trying to make sure you had everything you needed medically. So to hear you felt alone while he was right there, made him feel like a failure. You were the last person he ever wanted to make feel that way.
"You need to leave," you choked out, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "Go be a hero. You dropped from number 5 to 15 because you're always here or at my doctors. Mina told me you blew off that girl last week because I had an appointment. You aren't my boyfriend, Bakugo. You don't owe me a debt, you never did. So please just go live your life."
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. Bakugo took two long strides and sitting on the coffee table in front of you, forcing you to look at him. He didn't touch you, even though he wanted to. He felt he was too "hot-headed" for delicate moments like this, but his presence was an anchor.
"Shut up," his voice low but still had a bite to it, "Just shut the hell up for a second."
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You think I’m at 15 because of you? I’m at 15 because I’m an abrasive asshole who yells at reporters and civilians. That’s on me. And that girl? She was boring. I didn't blow her off, I just didn’t like her."
He looked you dead in the eye, his gaze fierce and unwavering that you couldn’t tell if you were attracted to him or intimidated by him. Maybe both?
"You think this is about a debt? You think I’m some charity worker?" He let out a harsh, dry laugh. "I don't do things I don't want to do. If I wanted to be somewhere else, I’d be there. I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because when I was dead, it was dark, and you were the one who brought the light back. If you’re lonely, that’s on me for not being loud enough. But don't you dare tell me to go find some 'normal' life."
He reached out, his hand hovering over yours on the blanket before moving the blanket up. Your heart sank, he still didn’t understand it. He was always doing things because you helped bring him back, he’s the same way Edgeshot. Before you could start spiraling he spoke again.
"And you think you’re moving back in with your mother? Like hell you are. That woman is a nightmare." He paused. You eyes snapped back to him, how’d he know, was it Mina? Probably her and Kirishima.
“Kirishima told me that raccoon eyes is moving. I’ll find a place with an elevator. Closer to the agency. You aren't going back to that house."
"Bakugo wait I—"
"I’m not paying a debt, y/n," he interrupted, his voice dropping to a gravelly sincerity. "I’m staying because I can. Now, eat the damn food I bought. You look like a breeze could blow you over."
The rest of that night you both ate in silence while some mundane tv show played in the background. Mina finally came home allowing your tense muscles to finally relax. Bakugo said goodbye and you were too exhausted to even give Mina the rundown.
“So?” Mina gleamed ready for the gossip.
“Mina…I love you but I’m too tired. Tomorrow I promise.” You gave her a soft smile walking to your room as you heard her dramatically fainting and going on about needing a good love story.
The next day patrol was a blur of routine for Bakugo. His movements were calculated and sharp, his explosions ringing with a loud violent energy that kept the local villain and thieves at a distance.
Beside him, Kirishima maintained a steady pace, his eyes shifting frequently toward his friend. He knew that "look" the one where his jaw was set so tight and a scowl so bad people would rather cross the street than run into him.
"So," Kirishima started, keeping his voice casual but grounded. "I heard you stayed late at y/n and Mina’s yesterday. How's she holding up? Mina mentioned things have been... heavy."
Bakugo didn't break his stride or turn to look at him. "She’s a mess. Thinks she’s a burden. Thinks I’m playing hero for a damn merit badge."
"You know that’s not it," Kirishima said softly. "But it’s a lot to carry, man. For both of you. You're pushing yourself pretty hard trying to be her entire support system. Which is super manly, but It’s okay to acknowledge that it’s emotional, you know? It’s okay to admit you’re you do this for her because you—"
"Drop it, Shitty Hair," Bakugo snapped. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb scrolling aggressively. "I don’t have time for the feelings lecture. I need to find a place for her, one that’s actually accessible and safe. Her current building is a death trap, too many places for her to hit her head during a seizure. Or if she passes out."
“Kaminari! Hey man!” Kirishima yelled waving him over. Kaminari joined them at the corner, hopping over a curb. Bakugo hadn’t even seen him.
“Hey didn’t realize I’d see you two out patrolling today. What’s up?” Kaminari was his usual energetic self but dropped the energy when he felt Bakugo’s annoyance. He looked at Kirishima who explained the situation to Kaminari.
"Wait, you're looking for apartments for her? That’s great, man! But... uh, didn't Midoriya already have a lead on that?"
Kirishima shook his head no and braced himself. Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks. If looks could kill Kaminari would’ve been on a shirt. The air around his palms began to shimmer with heat. "What?"
"I mean!" Kaminari backtracked, his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Midoriya was just mentioning a while back that since he’s working at UA now and has that faculty housing or whatever... he was talking about maybe moving in y/n. To help out. You know, since they’re both 'retired' from the front lines."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"Think about it, Bakugo," Kaminari pushed on nervously, digging the hole deeper. "Deku lost his quirk too. He gets it. He knows what it’s like to go from the top of the world to... well, to this. He thought it might be good for her to be around someone who isn't constantly reminded of what they lost every time they put on a hero suit."
Kirishima winced, reaching out to grab Kaminari’s shoulder. "Hey, maybe not the time—“
"I don't give a damn what he thinks," Bakugo hissed. He didn't yell or explode. He simply turned and walked away, “Kirishima let’s go”.
Two days later, Bakugo let himself into your apartment using the key he’d effectively commandeered from Mina.
Inside you were in the kitchen, back to the door, swaying to the music slightly as you wiped down the counters. You had on noise-canceling headphones on and were humming a tune that was barely audible over the faucet.
Bakugo didn't mean to sneak up on you, but his heavy boots were muffled by the rug. When he reached out to set a folder of floor plans on the counter, you caught his shadow and spun around.
You gasped, your heart leaping into your throat as you stumbled back against the sink, nearly losing your footing.
"God, Katsuki!" you breathed, ripping the headphones down around your neck. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." Your face was flushed, but you looked brighter today, it was a "good day."
Bakugo didn't apologize and didn't move. He was trying to calm himself down from hearing his name come out of your mouth so casually. How it sounded so perfect. He just grunted and stared at you, gripping the folder in his hand tighter.
"Kaminari has a big mouth," he said looking more pissed than usual. "He said Deku offered to move in with you. To be your little support system because he's 'quirkless' too."
You took a slow, steadying breath. You didn't flinch this time, you knew this was coming so what was the point in trying to dodge it. You met his gaze with a tired kind of honesty.
"He did offer, yeah. As soon as he heard Mina was moving out."
You moved to the kitchen table and sat down, your movements careful from nerves. "And I told him I’d think about it. I have a part-time job that would barely covers my needs, let alone rent if I lived on my own. I can’t live alone. If I have an episode while I’m cooking or in the shower..." you shrugged, a small, helpless gesture. "Izuku is patient and he’s has a consistent schedule. And he understands the... the silence of it all. And i wouldn’t have to live with my mom. I didn't think it was a bad idea."
You stopped talking and finally looked up at him, waiting for the explosion. You expected him to shout, to call Deku a "damn nerd," to tell you that you were being stupid.
Bakugo looked at the folder in his hand. The apartments that were luxury units near his agency, places with 24-hour security and staff. He looked at you, sitting in the kitchen of an apartment you could barely afford, trying to piece together a life out of fragments.
He tossed the folder onto the table. It slid across the wood, stopping right in front of you.
"No," he said like he decided that it was final.
You furrowed your brow. "No? What wh-you can't just—"
"No," he repeated, stepping closer until he was looming over the table. "You aren't moving in with Deku. Not because he’s quirkless or because he 'gets it.' But because he’s a self-sacrificing idiot who will let you wallow in that 'it’s okay to be broken' mindset forever. He’ll hold your hand while you cry, and you’ll both just sit in the dark together."
He slammed a finger down on the folder.
"I found a three-bedroom in the Musutafu Heights district. It’s five minutes from my agency. It has a private lift and 24 hr staff. It’s more space than you need."
You blinked, confused. "I just told you, I can't afford—"
"I’m not asking you to pay for it," Bakugo snapped, his eyes flashing with a fierce, protective heat. "And I’m not moving Deku in there. I’m moving in. If you need someone who knows your meds and can catch you when you fall, it’s going to be me."
He leaned down, his face inches from your face your face started to warm up so you pulled back…a lot. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice, his voice dropping to an intense whisper.
"You want someone who understands loss? Fine. But you need someone who’s going to remind you that you’re still a person, not a patient. I’m not letting you retreat into some 'safe' little bubble with Deku where you both just act like life is fine. You’re coming with me."
You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. The sheer audacity of his demand should have made you angry, but instead, you felt a strange, grounding warmth and calmness spreading through you.
"You're... you're serious?" you whispered. "You'd give up your privacy? Your 'top-tier' bachelor life? For a roommate who forgets her own name once a month?"
Bakugo straightened up, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away, a faint tint of red climbing his neck. "I already told you. I don't do things I don't want to do. Now start packing. We’re seeing the place on Sunday."
There’s more coming but this is all I got rn, thx for reading!
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that Mitsuki dragged him across the street to introduce the Bakugou family to yours.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that your parents became close friends very quickly, meaning he’d be forced into having regular play dates with you.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED that your moms made the two of you match in coordinated first day of kindergarten outfits.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki HATED that you’d always sit next to him at lunch, yapping away with your annoying voice.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the fact that you’d much rather play with izuku on the playground than him. Maybe because Deku didn’t shove you into the dirt during tag?
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that stupidly adorable frowny face you’d made when you fell off of your bike — but found himself notso reluctantly offering you his sleeve to wipe your face with anyway.
Middle school
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the way his heart thumped when you laughed too hard at his unfunny jokes.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that other guys would start noticing you and approaching you, asking you to hang out.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that he suddenly cared about what you thought of his appearance.
High school
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED that they’d placed you in a different class, meaning you’d be in different dorms, meaning he couldn’t check up on you whenever he wanted.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he’d always look for your face during passing period, and especially hated the way his face softened and his heart eased up whenever he found you.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he’d die before letting any other guy walk you back to the dorms after training.
College
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how long it took for him to confess, he HATED how his palms got extra sweaty when he did.
Boyfriend
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how hard he’d fallen for you, like it wasn’t something he could control. But he loved how natural it felt to have your hand in his.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED every time a villain would look your way when you were patrolling. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to have personal motives during work, but he wasn’t risking losing you, so even given a bad look.. he’d make sure they regretted it.
Fiancé
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how nervous he was before proposing — like you’d say no. And he HATED how red he got when you cried saying yes.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how he cried when he saw you walking down the aisle—Childhood best friend!Katsuki who HATED how he cried when you said your vows, and could barely get his own words out while saying his.
Husband
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED the girly color choice you’d chosen for the wedding but went with it anyway since you looked so happy.
Dad
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how tiny your baby looked in his arms at first — afraid that the smallest movement of his big strong beefy arms would crush the poor guy if he wasn’t careful.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how your son would insist on sleeping in bed with the two of you, directly in the middle, cuddling you. So much for having 3 more.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who HATED how life moved so fast. His little one was already starting kindergarten, Kirishima’s daughter standing next to your son, who looked more than displeased, as you insisted on getting a picture of their matching coordinated first day of kindergarten outfits. Sounds familiar hm…
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who’s response is always “Duh, she’s my best friend.” When his friends tease him about how they always knew the two of you would end up together.
Childhood best friend!Katsuki Who never really HATED anything you did. He was just too stubborn to use the word LOVE.
HII I hope you enjoyed reading !
I did NOT proofread this so I hope there aren’t too many mistakes…
